The Workers Tale
by Lost Child
Summary: Traditionally, in times of change and protest workers and students stick together. But how close should they be, and when does dedication become obsession? Reviews appreciated.
1. Default Chapter

I ran a rough finger over the white candle wax hardening against the wooden table. The tingling sensation of the warmth still lingering in the smooth substance reminded me to feel and to think; I made an inarticulate groan and pulled myself from my stupor. I had risen to the poetically simple sentiments of Enjolras, the relentless enthusiasm of the young man made me lift my head and gaze with difficulty through the candlelight. I could see the clarity in those blue eyes when at last the long lashes lifted to stamp his words with that earnest expression; quite clearly Enjolras was sober. The others were not, the dark words of their leader did not make a sombre mood but neither did his words inspire them beyond a dull mumbling of agreement.  

The empty bottle rattled as I placed it down, and when I cleared my dry throat to speak a cough rattled in my chest and made the gathered wince. "You…can't predict what will happen after" I stated finally. A brooding expression came over Enjolras when he spoke it was with a hint of sadness "No, but we can try and steer it...if we wait for the right moment. The people will be behind us." I shook my head, feeling my dirty hair teasing back over my shoulders. Enjolras looked sullen and then his eyes narrowed, "You believe in this as much as we do." 

A set of arms came around Enjolras; he remained still looking coldly at me. Arms of shapely tender flesh cradled him "Enjolras, have a drink. It's been a long day." He appeared to take no notice of these words, there was no solace for him in anything; not the embraces of pretty girls and not in the cheap wine lay out before them. The political talk was soon embraced by the frivolities of the innocent young minds speaking freely with their friends of anything that poured from their inebriated minds. No one spoke to me in a lightly mocking tone now, no hidden jokes about the drink, they were all delightfully drunk. 

"Le..let…me walk you home…Enjolras" His pale lips pressed together and then broke into a smile as I stood on the second attempt, I wrapped an arm heavily around his shoulders grabbing a half full bottle was we reached the door. He took it from me and pressed it to his lips, drinking deep from the sour wine. A slight shiver passed through him, though whether from the bite of the cold air or the bitter wine I couldn't tell. I patted him on the back, shoving him forward. With a chuckle from me we moved out into the night, the darkness brought a chill but Enjolras did not tremble beneath my arm. He was too proud for such things. I knew that soon he would begin to speak of my earlier words, of how wrong I was. Soon I would reassure him, that I was at his side whatever I believed of their foolishness.  

"I don't need you to walk me home. You're more drunk than I, Grantaire," he said eventually. I stumbled over a dislodged paving stone, as if to prove his point.

"We are walking each other home then." I muttered. 

"If it can be called as such…" he said sullenly, I smirked, he always took this tone when drunk. It made him pouty and childish, highly amusing after the proud insistent Enjolras of earlier in the evening. 

"Oh be qui-" I stopped in my tracks, blinked because something solid had moved in front of me. 

"Good Evening, Gentlemen." Said the Inspector. 


	2. Tumbling Moon

"Good Evening, Inspector," my voice was so polite and sweet I was sickened by myself. Javert's expression remained stony, unchanging. He took a step closer, his gaze shifting to Enjolras who was saying nothing but staring off into the darkness. 

"Is something wrong young man?" Enjolras started at the Inspectors words, struggled to bring his focus up to the tall Inspector.

"No Sir," he said quietly. I nudged him gently. "Good Evening." He sounded reluctant; I grinned at the Inspector, don't ask where we've been. 

"And why are you walking the street so late?"

I could have groaned, but it was essential not to panic. It is not illegal to walk the streets of Paris at any hour. "Going home, Inspector." 

"Very well, move along then" I nodded, putting my arm under Enjolras', best to move along.

I could see my breath ahead of me, warm against the cold air. My lips felt cold, numb. The Parisian winters were undeniably bracing, sheeted the Seine in ice and coated the streets in a slippery white layer but they were nothing to the winters I had grown up with. Deep in the countryside, in an entirely different world to Paris, I had learned that with a swig of wine I could ease my chill and become warm. That was not why I drank any more. 

"Why so quiet Enjolras?"

"It matters not; the days of care have passed." I raised an eyebrow; Enjolras' inclination to the dramatic sometimes scared me. Sometimes I wondered if I shouldn't fetch a Priest when I heard the words that passed his lips, they were either not the words of a sane man, or entirely too world weary for someone so young and beautiful. I felt sad for him, for all of them and hatred against the world. Why should Enjolras have to care for these things, why must he grow old so young. He should, at his age, have been seeing a life unfolding before him. 

His parents were the ones that sought social advancement, ever craving riches and titles that would elevate them over their fellow mortals. Enjolras' father would have been struck dead to see his son seated in the back of an inn, plotting against France on behalf of the people. What caused these children to desire change for the poor? It was the fault of their parents, the empty space where love and compassion ought to be had struck loneliness and an empty space into their children. These children would be fulfilled, they craved the lost emotion and it was displayed in none more vividly than Enjolras. The furious passion in his veins demanded a change, refused to settle into a comfortable life. He would make a difference, or he would die trying. Sometimes it was easy for him, in his ambition, to forget that the sacrifice of others was not his to give. Those that starved in the streets, filled with genuine despair, could not be called upon. Enjolras did not truly know this. He was drunk on his own passion. 

Behind us I could hear the sharp step of Inspector Javert. I knew his name because he picked me up from the pavement once, I woke up with a terrible head ache slumped across a painfully uncomfortable bed in a police cell. He'd spoken to me quietly, in a voice laced with promises of violence. The voice of a man bound by self control; clearly wanting to punish me by any means in his power. Of course he couldn't do much, merely a warning and a suggestion that I might like to speak with the chaplain. I didn't, I went home to soothe my headache with a drink. His footsteps screamed of control too, heavy yet determined and certain. 

The moon suddenly tumbled over in the sky. 


	3. Meeting Auger

The friends watched Grantaire and Enjolras leave, and for a moment everyone drank in silence, mourning the loss of the two men that inspired much of their activities. Someone lit a fresh candle. 

"They are watching us, I'm telling you." Someone to their friend loudly, bringing the light of the candle among them as they brought the birth of a plan. 

A beardless young man dropped the latest paper from Orleans and looked up at the bringer of the candle, "There are too many of us, we shouldn't ever begin to imagine that our plans can't be discovered." His name was Lafrenière, he listened keenly to the silence. 

"Well the police aren't bothered." 

Lafrenière sighed quietly. He was silent most of the time, a childhood friend of Enjolras who had met him on a journey to the country with his parents at a young age. Enjolras admired his gift for seeing slight things, for noticing the overlooked aspects which the others may have neglected.  "That isn't true." He said louder, with conviction. "The police, generally, aren't…but they are being encouraged. Inspector Javert-"

There was a muttering among the gathered, all knew Javert. His endeavours for justice far beyond the line of duty irritated them. He asked awkward questions, wasn't easy to put of the scent. They fell silent when he spoke again, his soft voice could not be heard otherwise "You all heard Enjolras, this is a key time for us…this is where we begin. We don't need him urging them into investigating us; we want the police to underestimate us." 

They began to mutter again. The quiet man looked thoughtfully at the candle, unblinking as he stared into the yellow flame. "I think…" he began, bringing silence to them once again, "that he needs a distraction." His eyes moved silently to the men on his right, slightly older, broad shouldered men. His gaze met with those of a man named Auger, a man with rough facial hair and a steely dark gaze; he knew the violence of this man. He knew it because he had experienced it, as dark bruises against his ribs had once testified. This man reminded him strongly of Grantaire, but in appearance only. Grantaire was not violent. Lafrenière looked for meaning in those eyes, but found none. He was surprised when Auger spoke. 

"You would like him distracted." He said in a voice that was surprisingly smooth for his appearance. Lafrenière's answer came in the lowering of his eyelashes, a slight nod. No more was needed. 

Lafrenière smoothed out the creases of his paper, put it carefully down onto the table and lifted the wine glass to his lips. He didn't drink from it, the wine smelled foul. Lafrenière didn't did not drink alcohol; it was, ironically, his cynicism that provided an escape from the world. 

In the opposite corner of La Chat Noir there hung a curtain of black material; it was unperceivable to the eyes of the customers. The Constable seated to his right, not in uniform of course, did not notice it. Neither did he notice the men that would pass through at intervals, fire arms slipped into their waist bands. Lafrenière noticed. And he smiled. 

There was not a slit of light showing from the curtain. He would see nothing from here, he would hear nothing; he must find a way to get closer. Enjolras had sent him to hear the words of this group, to learn if their agendas were similar to their own. Lafrenière himself had pointed out to Enjolras that while it was excellent to learn if public mood swayed in their favour, it was also wise to know those who plotted against them. He would determine the intentions of this group; perhaps a friendship could be forged. They were all workers, a small union of men.   

His eyes moved to the doorway when next it opened, his heart gave a desperate flutter. What on earth was Grantaire doing here? His stubborn refusal to comprehend anything that Lafrenière said, especially to Enjolras, and his crude simplifications would have him revealed to the world in moments. But Lafrenière need not have worried; Grantaire had not just entered La Chat Noir. It was a slightly taller man, whose eyes were dark and knowing. He walked with purpose, with a self arrogance and possession that Grantaire lacked. 

Lafrenière left his neatly folded paper on the table and approached the man, his mind raced with ideas while his face was the perfect façade of calmness. Even his almost white hair and pale eyes lended to the gentle, thoughtful mask. The man who Lafrenière had mistaken for Grantaire was named Auger; his hair was as dark as his eyes though his skin was as milky white as that of Lafrenière. 

"Excuse me, I am looking for the meeting." Lafrenière's voice was quiet and unassuming, but Auger was not the type to be dissuaded from his suspicions and to him, everyone was a potential spy. 

"Meeting?" 

"Yes, I was told that if I came here I would find the meeting for-"

As Lafrenière had hoped Auger glared at him, silencing him before he revealing what was going on in the back of the Inn not only to the customers of the pub but to the police Constable. 

"Follow me." Auger said shortly, Lafrenière followed the man unable to help his eyes straying over the broad shoulders of the tall man in front of him. Before they entered the blocked off area behind the curtain Auger stopped, "Wait here." Auger left him, and went inside. Lafrenière moved close to the curtain and was amused to find that, if he blocked the noises of the Inn from his hearing, he could listen to the conversation within. 

He heard Auger's voice, heated with irritation. "Who has been careless? Have we not agreed that even our trusted friends may not be confided to in this stage of our planning, did we not all concur that at this point we did not need to gather curious members of the public who could quite easily spill our secrets to the police!" Lafrenière was pleasantly surprised, that such a man was so articulate. He had expected a voice rough as the appearance of the man; instead it made him think of liquid darkness. He certainly had not expected the man had any authority within the group; that had been a factor in choosing this man. He might have slipped in alongside him; he was disappointed in his own perception of this man and at the same time powerfully curious. There was a muttering among the group, no one admitted to revealing the meeting time or place. 

"Continue." Auger said, and came out of the curtain, giving a fleeting view of a candlelit room beyond. He looked at Lafrenière steadily; then indicated that he should follow him to rooms even further back in the Inn. Lafrenière watched the muscled arms held firmly at Auger's side and felt surprisingly vulnerable in the wooden hall, he was alone in a potentially dangerous building and was certainly lacking in any knowledge. So far all that he had discovered was that the group that met here did not want the interference of the police, of course that did not reveal much. 

No words were spoken as they walked; the rooms ahead were in darkness. Perhaps he was being taken through the back way. A part of him knew that he was not. Auger led him into the darkness, and stopped. "Who are you?" Again his voice seemed like the dark that surrounded them, not a lack of light but a fluid-like substance that filled the air, this substance embraced the sound and they were one. 

"My name is Lafrenière."     

 His lungs stopped, his lips parted in a silent cry. Auger withdrew his fist, caught the man in his arms as he slipped down towards the floor. "Lafrenière" Auger whispered as though he did not wish to disturb the silent anguish of the fallen man. Lafrenière was now taking short sharp breaths, forcing oxygen down into his reluctant lungs. 

"We don't want unexpected visitors you see, Lafrenière. This is my reassurance that you will not give information you may have heard over to the police, I know you will understand this. I see cleverness in your eyes." As he spoke Auger's hand slipped under Lafrenière's shirt, his fingers slipped across ribs pressed their way across the fragile skin until he reached a warm nipple. He pressed the palm of his hand hard against Lafrenière's chest, and smiled when rewarded with a sob from the injured man. 

Lafrenière felt that bones across his chest may be broken; he pulled in ragged desperate breaths trying to gather his only defence: speech. Auger simply looked at him, wasn't his punishment complete? Lafrenière would now take a gamble, with his next words he might betray his only friends in the world or he might save himself but the words did not pass his lips. He could not make them.

Auger's gaze moved over the younger man's face, at reddened lips which looked like rose petals against white silk and the pale eyes that he could barely see in the darkness. He was going to give him a chance to speak but he found himself unable to resist inspiring the spark of fear in those eyes again. All made the mistake that Lafrenière had, believing Auger to only have the ability for executing violence. It was true, Auger was a violent man, but he admired the damage with an eye for the aesthetically pleasing which put his violence on a more frightening level. He held both of Lafrenière's arms tightly, his thumbs pressing hard into the flesh as his grip tightened. 

 "Why are you here?" He asked gently. Auger had long ago learnt that with such a gift for injuring others, he need not speak violently to them also. 

"I-loosen your grip please!-I came to-Aaaah" His eyes closed. Auger's fingers relaxed their grip on Lafrenière's throat. Auger tilted his head, frowned so gently that the most delicate of lines appeared on his smooth forehead. 


	4. Brothers

"Then you are not on our side, you do not seek changes you do not want-" Augur squeezed his arm tightly, bringing his words to a stop. Lafrenière's eyes widened, he shivered at the sensations that Augur's fingers brought to his arm. He was not accustomed to such explicit feeling. He had never fought a man, never been struck with such brutality, neither had he experienced caresses that brought stirrings of uncontrollable feelings he hadn't been aware of. 

"That is not the point Lafrenière"

"It is, why, if we seek the same things, can we not be brothers?"

"Brothers." He said the word as though he had never heard it, testing it out for its worth. His fist tightened and as it was so close to him Lafrenière saw it, he gasped, curled up instinctively to shield himself from a blow. 

The tips of Augur's fingers touched against his lower lip, causing a prickling pain. Lafrenière didn't dare to move "You do not believe in brotherhood?" The fingers at his lips were moving slightly, the outstretched arm trembled. Augur was angry, for the first time. His fingers moved almost lovingly across the skin to Lafrenière's throat and tightened around it. Lafrenière slipped into unconsciousness. 

Augur lit a candle and placed it beside the bed. He had missed the meeting, but that was not important. He was angered because the boy had been right. They all believed in brotherhood firmly, and in their world of planning they had made it a kind of club, which none could have access to but the current members and a well meaning boy who wanted to speak himself of freedom was beaten for it. He wasn't sorry for beating him though. He listened with great appreciation to the gentle sleeping breath of Lafrenière, leaned close to press a finger against the red lips again, the lips he'd bruised with rough kisses. He wasn't able to help himself. His eyes moved to Lafrenière's throat, the bruises there had brought a vivid blue vein close to the skin. He savoured the sight; the boy could not have been more vulnerable. 

Augur desired to hurt him again, though this time there were no reasons for it but his own perverse pleasure which he had never been able to justify. If Lafrenière was not able to leave La Chat Noir walking Augur knew that soon enough there would be trouble from Enjolras. He did not want that, he knew what he wanted. He would return with Lafrenière. They would learn from one another. After these blows, he knew, Lafrenière would not trust him. But, he could bind them together in other ways. He could hold things over Lafrenière; Augur had seen the innocent shivers, the realisation of unknown sensation in Lafrenière's pale eyes. 

He stood up to his full height. He watched the gentle flicker of light across the wall of the room; then climbed onto the bed supporting himself over the fragile figure. Augur pressed his lips against the bruised throat; his tongue pressed against the exposed throbbing vein and licked a wet trail across it.  Lafrenière's breath stopped momentarily, Augur knew that he was coming round. He covered his mouth, taking breath from him when he finally expelled it and opened his eyes. The eyes widened slightly, Augur's tongue slipped into the warmth of the open mouth. The two remained still; Augur's tongue caressed the lips of the other lightly. The lips felt full, swollen from the bruising of his forceful kisses earlier, when he had been unable to resist the sleeping boy. 

Lafrenière was half frightened by these attentions, half amazed and each feeling complimented the other. The swell of sensations beat stronger with each flutter of fear. Every time the tongue against his lips moved he was afraid of the pain, yet he anticipated it, and in anticipating he wished for the feeling. Augur stripped his shirt from him, ran fingers that were surprisingly deft across the soreness of his chest. When his hands reached his stomach nails scraped lightly across the skin, Lafrenière drew in a ragged breath and closed his eyes. 

"Is this my warning also?" He asked, opening his eyes briefly. 

"An offer of friendship to your child leader," why should they not come together in their cause why should they be so divided simply because of age. There were wisdoms they could bring each other, and in Lafrenière's eyes Augur saw knowledge that he liked. He saw a sweet victim bound to the cause, and to the problem. He saw too much lurking in what should have been eyes wide to the wonders of his world. 

How could Lafrenière protest to this? The sweet waves of pleasure, the pleasure of someone wanting to touch him. This man, whose name he did not even know, would deliver him an intimacy he craved. A greater release than his cynical mind provided. He could let his mind slip away, he could give into pleasure as easily as pain and if they came in equal amounts he would not reject them. He found himself very swiftly without clothes, he had barely noticed their removal hidden beneath the gentle stroking of his skin. His whole body tingled with delicious sensation, when Augur's caresses found the fine almost invisible blond hairs that led from his stomach he felt overwhelmed. It was not lingered upon, Augur did not savour it as he had the tender vein in his throat. Lafrenière was being helped to sit up, guided to kneel on the bed, turned so that he faced the wall. Augur moved behind him, lifted his hands and placed the boy's palms against the wall. 

"What is your name?" Lafrenière asked in a hurried whisper. 

"Augur."


End file.
